Mine - The Optional Happy Ending
by Dieformygoddamnship
Summary: Title says it all. One of two optional sequels to 'Mine'. Bendy. Complete.


**A/N: So... this is an optional sequel to 'Mine' (which I wrote for my sanity only). It is not necessary to read 'Mine' first, but I personally think it flows better. I am also currently working on a second optional ending, without the 'happy' part (also, for what is left of my sanity). **

**I feel like this series-of-sorts will not be complete until I have written both obvious ways for it to end.**

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**The Optional Happy Ending**

The moment that Stan breaks away from his boyfriend and my best friend's animated conversation (probably something about universities, honestly) I start to freak out.

This is what it must feel like to have someone walk up to you – in slow motion – to tell you that you are where you are to protect your crush, not to continue to get attached to them. And, yes, I know that is very dramatic and sounds like it came straight out of one of one of Wendy's beloved mangas, but that is exactly what it felt like.

I seriously think I had more of a heart attack when he gave me a gentle half-smile and almost whispered, "Maybe you should tell her how you feel, Bebe. It's not like she'll take your head off. Plus it would be nice for both of you to be happy." Then he was shooting Kyle a kind of triumphant glance and the redhead was nodding and beaming.

_Oh god, _was my first thought, _they know?_

Naturally my first reaction was to go confront Kenny about blabbing people's secrets again.

The blonde would be of no help. He is not the kind to be anywhere that you assume he would be, he turns up if he feels like it and that is all. If you do not want to see him, he is suddenly everywhere, looking for him? Good luck.

Trust me; I dated the asshole.

Kenny McCormick, however, continues to make the mistake of wearing fluoro orange clothing, thus you can spot him from a mile away.

Lucky for me, Kenny McCormick was in one of his moods. He wanted attention, any kind of attention, and the attention of his (in his words) "beautiful earthbound angel" would definitely do. As I wandered out of school, intending to stalk the grounds for a good forty minutes before heading home, he appeared out of the school gardens, mud from the normally miserable day clinging to his converses and old skinny jeans.

"A little bird told me you were looking for me, Angel." he states with a crooked grin.

I roll my eyes, "You high again, McCormick?"

His smirk widens into a genuine one.

"So? What do you want?"

"You wanted to talk to _me _remember?" he cocks his head like he is actually curious, then beams, "What did I do now?"

"Can you not call me 'angel'?"

"That is not happening."

I sigh in frustration. Our relationship had lasted for eleven months. Eleven months where I was content and he was ecstatic and it was the opposite of fair for him, but I did not understand at the time. He trusted me with his secret – that he could die and had died multiple times – and for some reason I believed him, for some reason I started to remember. Kenny thought this was important, and despite his normal attitude and misunderstanding of the word 'fidelity', he went all romantic on me.

But he _knew _I was only content and he _knew _before I did that that reason was Wendy Maria Testaburger. My best friend and in my opinion the most gorgeous being to ever have set her eyes on this plane of existence.

He broke up with me, and I was bothered that it did not bother me. Kenny turned up the charm and acted like it did not bother him, but Wendy knew. She made a point of highlighting it, but all I could say was "He ended it, I moved on." Eventually she came to except this and eventually I came to except that it was always _her _that had been the issue.

That this is the closest thing to 'love' that I have ever known, and in my teenage angst-filled way I know it is the closest I ever will.

Even thinking that makes me feel pathetic, but I am just being honest. Only brave enough to be honest in my head, but that is definitely an improvement.

"Fine. Just why on earth do you think you have the right to tell others' secrets?" I glare at him.

He shakes his head, serious suddenly, "I never would. Not ever. You know that. I'm an owner of secrets as much as I am a keeper of ones."

"Then how did—"

Kenny cuts me off, "No, Bebe. I do not want to know who knows about your 'thing'. I'm guessing it was our Stanley, by your face, but it doesn't matter. I told no one. Would you like me to tell you why?"

I nod, "Please."

"I would never tell because you deserve better than that. I trusted you enough to tell you my secret for a reason, and I selfishly told you despite my knowledge of your own. But now that you have a chance to be happy? No. You have to tell who you need to tell, and I suggest starting with _her_." he reaches out and brushes blonde hair from my forehead. The teen is barely taller than me.

"You always have your reasons," I sigh again, moody and annoyed and thoroughly confused, "And I still don't know if I ever want to find out what they are."

Kenny McCormick, conundrum of the millennia, shakes his gorgeous head.

"I always knew I'd lose you to her," the blonde mumbles, eyes the colour of evening shadows against snow far too soft and glistening like Starks Pond as it melts. The only sound is my sharp intake of breath as he brushes his thumb down my cheek and then across my collarbone. "...But making you happy is more important."

My mouth drops open slightly as he smiles sadly, for that was almost an exact replica of what Wendy said to Stan so long ago.

I feel like I cannot leave us like that and Kenny sees that in my eyes. He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. "Go be happy, okay? But know I love you, Angel."

And then he is gone.

Wendy Testaburger spends most of her time in the local library with whatever catches her fancy in her hand. She nearly always pretends to be working, but the librarians like her and allow her to procrastinate.

Normally, I spend my time in the general vicinity, either actually working or curled up enjoying her presence.

We talk seldom, for best friends. At least when we are in public. Once curled up in one of our bedrooms you cannot shut us up.

At least, that was what we were like for most of our lives.

Recently she has been pulling a Kenny. Whenever I look for her it is like she has disappeared from the face of the planet. Whenever I want to avoid her she still is not there. This could have something to do with the fact that I never, ever want to avoid her...

And I miss her. Though at first I thought the separation would help me heal, move on even, it just hurts like a bitch. Plus I cannot get Kenny's sad eyes out of my mind.

When I do not know what to do, I usually ask Wendy or Kenny. The former is obviously out of the question and the latter similarly so. If not either of them then I truly am at a loss for what to do.

And then Kyle Broflovski notices me being self-piteous one lunchtime. For once he is free of Stan, and he makes a point of coming and sitting next to me on the steps that lead down to the pitiful thing this school calls the oval.

"Hey Bebe," he shoots me a warm smile, pushing his thin black glasses firmly back onto his face with a forefinger.

I smile back, "Hi Kyle, how are you?"

"Brilliant," you could tell by the brightness in his emerald eyes that he was telling the truth, "I came to ask you how _you're _going, though."

"Crap."

"Am I allowed to ask why?"

"No." I answer automatically, but I see the hurt in his face and sigh, "If you must," I amend.

A small smile, "Why are you feeling like crap Bebe?"

"The same reason you used to feel like crap. Before you kissed Stan and everything went right." No bitterness there, I think.

He nods, "I thought so. Why aren't you giving you two a shot? And before you start, I know it is deathly terrifying to put yourself on the line like that, with no idea of the reaction or feelings of the other person, but I believe it needs to be done. At the end of it all, either you have exactly what you wanted, or you know that will never happen, so you can give yourself that chance to step back and move on. Heal your wounds and find someone else who will love you for who you are."

"Yeah, says you, who kissed the guy you've been in love with for a long time and he _responded in a positive manner. _That rarely happens, in the real world." I state.

"But when it does it is amazing." Kyle stops for a moment, ponders, a grimace forming across his features. Not just his lips curling down, but his eyes dimming and his shoulders slumping. That kind of frown. He twists a thick silver band around his right ring finger agitatedly. "Though I honestly don't know what I would have done if he hadn't kissed me back…"

"Moved on?" I ask, bitterly, "Or couldn't you manage that?"

He shrugs, not meeting my eyes.

"I'm just saying that you should probably have a go, because the whole thing was killing me, and it's better afterwards, no matter what the response. Ask Kenny about that one. He's brilliant with rejection, poor guy. Did you know the only reason I told Stan was because Kenny guilt-tripped me and pumped enough alcohol into me to thoroughly destroy my inhibitions…"

I sigh, "You're rambling, Kyle." He does not respond, so I try a different approach, not exactly sure why I was bothering with him, "What's with the ring?"

To my utter amusement he flushes, a smile tugging at his lips. "It's… kind of like a promise ring. ...Stan's idea..."

"Naturally," I scoff.

"I thought he was joking, at first," he tilts his hand so I can see the 'S.R.M.' engraved across it, "But it's strangely comforting now."

"And you're whipped and will let him get away with any weird idea he has?"

"Yeah…"

Laughing, I prop my head in my hand, "I wish I had that."

"Wish you had Wendy calling all the shots? Trust me, it's not particularly pretty knowing you can't say no to someone," but Kyle is laughing.

It actually stops me for a moment, when he says her name. Because though I knew that he knew who we were talking about, it is still different when someone says it so bluntly.

"I don't care."

"I know you don't."

A comfortable silence, "…Kyle? How did Kenny guilt-trip you?"

He shook his head, "He went on and on about how he could never have who he wanted but there was a chance for me and I should take it. And I might not be particularly perceptive when it comes to emotions, but I know he meant you, and it is not that hard to spot someone else feeling the same way as you do," he nudges me with his elbow, "So I knew there was no way you could actually be with him…"

I nod. "I don't want to let Kenny down, he obviously believes I can do this, but I don't think I can."

"You couldn't do anything to let him down, you know that." he states.

"That makes it worse."

"You will be able to do this," Kyle says softly, "And whatever happens you won't have to freak out about it anymore."

Wendy starts to talk to me again. Like nothing had happened, and no one knows what had.

When it comes down to it I'm just glad I have my best friend back again.

I do not want to tell her and end this.

And yet…

Relationships are goddamn complicated. Every single one of them. Between family and friendships and romantic whether it is requited or not. And lately I have been in the mood to give up on all of them.

This does not really change the fact that Kyle wheedled a promise out of me and I really hate breaking them. But I might have to, if I chicken out.

I chicken out. For a long time.

A year goes by. Then another. And I cradle what I have known as a crush into a roaring fire (and yeah, my brain does that without my help). All of a sudden we are twenty and hanging out near our university in Denver because we never quite left South Park behind. We find shops that we like, little hipster places that sell coffee and pie that no diner we have ever been to can match.

We find one in particular, a hole-in-the-wall 'café' that is just a thirty-three year old who never left university and half a dozen current students who need money and will take whatever they are given. Domick - the guy who runs it - loves us because we come in at least three days a week and buy things. We love him because he makes amazing coffee.

Wendy and I spend a whole two hours every Tuesday in the café; we read or work on whatever we should have completed already.

It is on one of those days, mid-winter with dusty light dancing through the small windows and the quiet hustle of eleven o'clock regulars and the two twenty-something baristas making arses of themselves and not really helping, that I gather the courage to say anything to her at all.

She is reading something, a new book or comic or manga or such that she started reading that morning and I have not yet asked. I am supposed to be typing up something for one of my classes but I am not really interested and I know that Wendy has noticed I keep glancing at her out of the corner of my eye and is vaguely amused. I tilt my head to see her better - gold blonde hair obscuring my eyesight before I bat it away - and for a second I do not know what to do.

"I have loved you since we were kids, you know that right?" the words are soft and I can feel my hands shake at the idea of her knowing at all.

Wendy flicks her dark eyes up at me and nods, "I know, B, I have loved you since then too."

I sigh, an exhale of breath that is neither frustrated nor relieved and yet a bit of both. I shake my head, almost violently, as she goes back to her novel. "That's not what I meant, Wendy, and you know that."

Her eyes stop scanning the page at that, I can see because my gaze is so intent on her face, on her expression.

Taking a deep breath I manage to complete my thought without rushing it out in an indecipherable mess, "I have been _in love with you _since we were kids, Wendy."

To my complete and utter astonishment her lips curl up at the corners into the smile I adore so much. Without looking up from her book she searches for my hand on the vintage table we are sitting side by side at.

She twines our fingers together and breathes out two words I had not thought to dare to dream of, yet now they mean everything: "I know."

Neither of us mention what this means. Our hands never leave each other's as Wendy continues to drink her chai tea latte and read and I sit there and try not to squeal a lot. There is no point in trying to work on anything because I am beyond ecstatic and somewhere in the 'this is a dream' denial phase where university and my unstarted essay due on Friday is a calculus problem I have no chance of understanding in an eternity - being honest - much less the time I have been given. Lucky for me the only class I have on Tuesdays is an early morning the-sun-is-not-up-yet kind of thing, whereas Wendy has a lecture at one-thirty and that is it.

It does not take long before she nudges me with her elbow and says we should probably get going if she intends to get to the university on time, because honestly we have dawdled too long and there is little chance of that anyway. I nod and we leave and when Wendy lets go of my hand to get into the black VW bug that is under my mother's name, technically, my heart does a weird little backflip that is not positive or negative. Just a statement that translates roughly as "shit…"

Wendy takes my hand once we are both seated and I run three orange lights to get to Denver University with five minutes to spare. She leans over and kisses my cheek before she grabs her satchel and steps out of the car.

"Love you, Bebe," she calls with a half-wave and a small smile that screams 'inside joke'.

I feel my face flush with pleasure and I drive off unable to stop grinning.

There are two more things I have to do despite the brilliant feeling in my chest and the fog over my mind. The first is pick up Kyle and Stan from the dealership where their car is being serviced and the second is buy food because our three bedroom apartment is almost empty of anything edible. Wendy, Annie, Clyde and I share the place, which is just affordable with everyone contributing.

Tonight our group decided, of their own accord, to come eat pizza and play tabletop games at our place. We had no say but that is what you deal with when you have childhood friends in your general vicinity. They assume all your stuff is theirs to play with.

This would be a big deal except for the fact it basically is.

Kyle sees my smile when I roll the window down to yell at them to get into the car. He whoops, "You told her huh? And it worked out fine? Didn't I tell you a dozen times?"

He and Stan fist-bump in triumph.

I try to glower at them but my mood is too bright – for once – for anything to truly affect me.

The boys promise to help me find cheap edible food and they do while trying to pry information out of me. Eventually they manage the whole story and they grin at me and 'awww' and I find it immensely obnoxious.

Somewhere during this time I wonder what exactly all of what happened means, but I try to ignore it and bask in the bliss for a while longer.

The boys remind me to pick up Wendy and they refuse to say anything on the trip back to our apartment. Wendy is too busy writing some idea down to do anything but contribute to the uneasy silence.

Our car park is underground and Wendy growls as the sunlight disappears and flickering neon tubes take over. We give Kyle and Stan a key and tell them to go unlock while Wendy and I gather all of our crap and drag it up with us.

As we walk the overwhelming urge, which has been consistently growing since it occurred to me, to ask Wendy about whatever this is takes over.

"We aren't having this conversation, Bebe." she says.

I shrug, "I don't see why we can't… I just want to tell you-"

The noirette spins around and presses her lips to mine for a moment, effectively shutting me up. My eyes slip closed because kissing Wendy Testaburger is as amazing as I had hoped.

She pulls away and gives me a look that translates to 'you shut up, that happens again, kay?'

I follow her up the stairs and into our apartment and I grin at Kyle and Stan who have taken over our living room. Wendy and I dump our own bags in our rooms and the groceries on the kitchen bench.

I try again, "But Wendy, I still don't know exactly what happened and I kind of have to explain all of this shit that _really _needs to be explained for both of our sakes. And I know you know that _I _love you - ridiculously much - but I'm not sure where we actually stand and once we sort out what's actually happened we can-"

"KYLE MARSH! GET IN HERE AND FIX YOUR BEST FRIEND!" Wendy yells, annoyed and glaring at me like I am missing something extremely obvious.

The Marsh thing has been an inside joke for years, though not technically accurate we all get an unnecessary kick out of it.

I frown at her, "Wendy, _you're _my best friend."

She shakes her head, "Oh, don't fuck with me Bebe I know what you two are like. You can have more than one best friend and right now it is his job to fix your idiocy."

Kyle strolls into the kitchen with his hands in his jeans pockets, and wearing an expression somewhere between amused and concerned, "What's going on?"

Wendy points at me and turns her glare to Kyle, "My girlfriend's being a prat, is what's going on."

I do a double take, "Girlfriend?"

"Yes, girlfriend, what the fuck else Bebe Stevens?" she waves her hands and sighs in exasperation, like this is obvious.

It still kind of isn't.

"Look, I thought we weren't talking about this..."

"We aren't," Wendy agrees.

I sigh and shake my head at her, "You confound me, Wends."

That gets a small smile out of her because she knows it is more of a compliment than anything else. When she sighs, it is in resignation, "Sorry, Ky, I'm going to wave you out now. You do not need to hear this conversation."

Kyle chuckles, nods and disappears again.

Wendy places her hands firmly on my shoulders and forces me to look directly into her gorgeous gold-brown eyes, "Bebe, we have been acting like a couple since year eleven." she pauses and I nod, because she is kind of right. She laughs softly, "That's why neither of us got dates to our senior prom. We have the hugging and the hand holding and the physical affection _as well as_ the deep emotional attachment. The clinginess, the jealousy, for god's sake B the only thing that was missing was the kissing." Wendy just watches me for a moment, making sure I am getting exactly what she is trying to say, "So stop thinking of today as the big revelation or anything like that. It's not. Think of today as it is; the day where we started the kissing and the formality."

I feel the smile stretch across my lips before I am willing to admit it. Wendy grins back, flicks dark hair over her shoulder and turns to put the milk in the fridge.

Wendy keeps an eye on me for the rest of the night. Her hand rarely leaves mine and that suits me perfectly. She runs her thumb over my knuckles and makes sure this whole thing has settled in.

Neither of us bother mentioning it but the others know. We know on that subconscious intuitive best friend level that borders on telepathy and they pick the change up on their end.

I have no idea what most of the thoughts and feelings circling my mind are and to be honest I do not care.

This is awesome.

There are nine of us; Powder and Annie GM and the rest of us die within four hours of us creating new characters. We are more hysterical (in a positive way) than upset, though.

Stan and Kyle take a taxi to their apartment, Kenny and Powder walk down two streets to theirs, Butters crashes on our couch and Annie and Clyde retire to their room. I make a coffee and Wendy has a shower and by the time I crawl into my bed I can still hear the water thudding against the aquamarine tiles of our bathroom.

I probably dozed, I can never really tell. One moment I was warm and covered by blankets and the next the sheet is being pulled up and the single bed creaks in protest as someone else settles in behind me.

I try to roll over but the slim silhouette of the person elbows me hard, shushes me and tells me to shut up and go back to sleep. She wraps her arms around my waist and presses her lips to the point where my jaw and neck meet.

"Night, Bebe."

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**A/N: I apologise for the sappiness and overall *waves hands in a frustratingly vague manner* ...yeah. I wish, of course, it was easy for me to add to the few Bendy fics with positive endings, but other than this... I cannot truly manage it.**

**Well, what did you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts. (And if you haven't read 'Mine', please do. I am much happier with how it turned out. ^.^ )**


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